Postcards From Beyond The Edge.

Ok I am still hating my job. I have moved from the Castle, that now seems a hell (and I mean “hell”) of a lot nicer place. I am now working for a call centre taking inbound calls (listening to people whinge about their broadband, “Where is it”, “when will I be connected”, and “you work for a f*cking ridiculous company don’t you mate?”, yes, yes I know that, arseholes!) for half the day and then actually doing the job for which I was employed the other half of the day.

I work in a company that would have a problem organising a pint in a brewery let alone a piss-up. I thought I’ve work for retards before but this lot make them seem veritably organised compared with this company. This lot really do use the infinite number of monkeys business organisation system. Dilbert really is a management manual for these people. (I kid you not readers).

I have managed to keep the house for the moment (though I have to do a fifty hour week to earn enough to hold onto it). Sod the bloody bank they did try taking me to court to take it away.

I still walk to work (I walk about five miles in total every day). I have managed to reduce my weight from about seventeen and a half stone down to fourteen stone (for the non-uk residence a stone is fourteen pounds, so two hundred and forty five pounds down to one hundred and ninety odd pounds) over the last three or four years.

Sod dieting just eat reasonably, which of course is what I have not been doing. Living on rice and pasta. And I don’t mean pasta and sauce, I mean pasta and salt and pepper if I’m bloody lucky.

As you can see I’ve finally organised my broadband (and not with the bloody company I work for, scum).

I didn’t realise I’d not posted for almost three months. I have just pruned my favourites at technorati and found about five or six of my regular sites (that I enjoyed visiting) had dropped off the blogosphere. Oh and I’ve ported this over to the new “beta”.

I still fight the ever present shadow of depression. I still have good days and bad days.

Finally, I am told that if a man knows he is insane, he is not insane. How then does one stand if everyone tells you that you are insane. If you believe them then you know you are insane, if you disbelieve them then you must be insane because you don’t.

Technorati Tag: Obsession, Rants, Rant.